


A Gathered Storm

by mresundance



Series: Standalone Trans Fics [10]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: FTM Will, M/M, Oral Sex, Penetration, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Will Graham, and was bought after the fall, but it's obviously not the one from canon, front hole penetration, hannibal is hung, yes will is wearing hannibal's red sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mresundance/pseuds/mresundance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal after the fall. Some PWP wherein Will is trans (FTM), and some other tropes.  Written for the It's Still Beautiful Fest on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gathered Storm

Hands greedy for one another, they could come away with bloody, burning fistfuls. Not even their wet clothes, sopped hard and twisted to their bodies, can keep their hands away. Hannibal’s nails raking red lines over Will’s ribs, Will biting crimson moons into Hannibal’s collarbone, the both of them hurtling each other into cabinets and counter-tops, chairs flung careless, pots and pans sent jingle-jangling, the back door left open to bang in the rain and the wind. Will’s skin is rose-white and rose-pink, feverish from being caught in the storm, from their fight, from touch, and desire. He shoves Hannibal in the chest, hard, snagging that too-large red sweater on the bottle-cap opener, and sending the both of them crashing to the floor, a panting, dizzy heap.

Will listens to Hannibal’s breathing, to his frenzied heartbeat. He straddles Hannibal and bends down to kiss him. First on the corner of his lips, and then on the chin, and then right under his nose. And finally, on his lips, gentle, slow. He kisses a trail along Hannibal’s jaw, to his throat, and the marks on his collarbone. He feels Hannibal’s cock, already half hard. Presses his palm against it and rubs steadily, rhythmically, in time to feather-light kisses. He kisses his way down Hannibal’s chest and stomach, and, unbuttoning his pants and tugging them down, draws his cock out.

It has that salty, musky taste Will has come to enjoy, though it was very strange and very foreign to him at first. Even though it was Hannibal. Maybe especially because it was Hannibal. But now he licks the tip, and then draws it into his mouth, slowly, sucking lightly, before taking it deeper. Listening to Hannibal’s breath hitch as he moves.

“Mmm,” Will hums around Hannibal’s cock, and Hannibal stiffens.

Will pulls off, unbuttoning and wriggling out of his own damp jeans. He touches himself -- god was he wet -- and even with the wind blowing in, the sound of him touching himself is obscene in that small kitchen.

Will straddles Hannibal again, and, slides right onto his cock, hissing at its girth, the way it burns as it enters him.

At first, Will only rocks gently.

“Jesus, you’re big,” he gasps.

Hannibal looks supremely smug about that, at least until Will presses his hips down, making them both moan.

Stretched or no, Will leans back, inch by inch, sinking deeper and deeper.

“God,” he pants. “Oh god, oh god.”

He begins rubbing his own cock, panting, rolling his hips faster and faster, pressing harder and harder.

“Come inside me,” he murmurs. “Come inside me.”

It isn’t a request. It’s a command, even if issued breathy, from a rosy-cheeked man, dark hair curling against his pale forehead, red sweater exposing one shoulder as he rides Hannibal. They both know who’s won this fight. Again, and always.

Hannibal undulates up and as he groans, Will feels him shudder inside, feels him hot and slick, then his own orgasm coming, coming, a tight spasm and then a quivering, clenching, and then softer, softer.

Will slumps over Hannibal. He listens to his breathing and his heartbeat as they slow. The sighs Hannibal makes as he kisses the top of his head.

They take their time. They close and wipe up the back door, drenched in rain. They mop up the parts of the kitchen which were also exposed and wetted. They right the pots and the pans and the chairs. They gather their clothes.

As they walk down the hall to the bathroom for a shower, Will enjoys the damp sag and sway of that red sweater, and the delicious, slick-hot seep from between his thighs.


End file.
